My PoV
As Jaune and I stood at the entrance to Beacon, taking in the awe-inspiring sight, I noticed a slight shift in his demeanor. He seemed to be scanning the crowd, his eyes lighting up as they landed on someone in the distance.
"Hey, Alex," Jaune said, his voice a mix of excitement and nervousness. "I just spotted someone I think I know from back home. Do you mind if I...?"
I gave him an encouraging smile. "Go ahead, Jaune. We'll catch up later. Good luck!"
With a grateful nod, Jaune took off into the crowd, leaving me standing alone amidst the sea of new students. I took a deep breath, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. This was it – time to start forging my own path at Beacon.
As I began to make my way towards the main building, my attention was drawn to a solitary figure standing off to the side. She stood out from the crowd, not just because of her striking appearance, but because of the air of quiet intensity that seemed to surround her.
Long white hair cascaded down her back, catching the sunlight in a way that made it seem almost ethereal. Her sky blue eyes were sharp and observant, taking in everything around her with a calculating gaze. But it was her outfit that really caught my attention – a crisp, perfectly pressed naval commander's uniform that spoke of discipline and authority.
There was something about her that tugged at my memory, a sense of familiarity that I couldn't quite place. My heart raced as I approached, a strange mix of emotions swirling within me. Did I know her? And if so, how?
As I drew closer, I noticed she was eating what appeared to be a standard-issue ration bar with mechanical precision. Her movements were efficient, almost ritualistic, as if she had done this countless times before.
"Excuse me," I said, my voice coming out steadier than I felt. "I couldn't help but notice your uniform. It's not exactly standard Beacon attire."
Those sky blue eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, I felt as if I was being assessed, categorized, and filed away in some mental database. Then, almost imperceptibly, her expression softened.
"It's not," she replied, her voice cool and measured. "I prefer functionality over fashion." She paused, tilting her head slightly as she studied me. "Have we met before? There's something... familiar about you."
My heart skipped a beat. Did she remember? But no, that was impossible. This wasn't Andy, my little brother in all but blood from a life long past. This was someone new, someone who just happened to bear a striking resemblance to a fictional character, with the soul of some I know.
"I don't think so," I said, trying to keep my voice casual. "But I'm glad I'm not the only one feeling a sense of déjà vu. I'm Alex, by the way."
She nodded, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. "Emily Halsey. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Alex."
Emily. Not Andy. I repeated the name in my head, trying to reconcile the person before me with the memories that kept trying to surface.
"So, Emily," I said, leaning against a nearby pillar in an attempt to appear relaxed. "What brings you to Beacon? With that uniform, I would have guessed you were more military-minded."
She finished her ration bar, carefully folding the wrapper and tucking it into a pocket before answering. "I believe in being prepared for any eventuality. The skills taught here at Beacon will complement my existing training."
There was something in the way she spoke, a hint of a deeper purpose that intrigued me. "Existing training? Sounds like there's quite a story there."
Emily's eyes met mine again, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of something – recognition? Longing? – before it was quickly masked by her stoic demeanor.
